


Of Hugs and Barriers

by LadyTauriel



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-03
Updated: 2014-05-03
Packaged: 2018-01-21 17:59:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1559114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyTauriel/pseuds/LadyTauriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur, not having any courage to even enjoy himself in a relationship with another, accidentally hugs the wrong guy. Oops (but not really).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Hugs and Barriers

Arthur stood at the side of the busy street, looking around impatiently. He had promised Gwen and Lance that he would make it by seven to their engagement party, taking place at a semi-formal restaurant in the outdoor shopping mall. They had rescheduled the event an hour already, to accommodate his pressing matters at work. Uther was retiring from Camelot Enterprises, and neither him nor Morgana was giving him an inch when it came to procrastinating on taking over the business. He left the office as soon as he could, stopping at his flat to grab the engagement gift and bottle of wine, and to change our of his work suit into a less formal red long-sleeve, tucked into the same slacks. However, now he was late, as it was already ten after, and there wasn't any "Welsh Winery" in place. 

Finally, he spotted the establishment, a block from where he was standing, panting, having ran several blocks from the only available parking he could see. He ran some more, bags in hand, finally stopping in front of the gates that enclosed the outdoor portion of the restaurant. Lancelot was standing in a white shirt and black slacks, discussing something with the restaurant host. Well aware that he would probably interrupt their probably important, as it was pertaining to their dinner tonight, discussion, he judged the next step to be running up to Lance and gripping him from behind in a surprising bear-hug. He was frankly too tired to care about the complications. 

However, as soon as he wrapped his arms around the man and attempted to lift him from the ground, as he always did with Lance, he realised that he _could_ , a few inches into the air. That the arms underneath the fine cloth were not as muscular as his, but almost wiry, bones sticking out at the elbows. The man gave a little yelp, and Arthur almost dropped the man out of surprise. Stopping himself in just time, he set the stranger back on the ground as swiftly as possible. As he let go and stepped back, the man whirled around, seemingly lost between pointing at Arthur with an indignant finger and fleeing. The man had an inquiring gaze in his eyes, probably expecting someone he recognised. As soon as they landed on Arthur, visible anger mixed with nervousness replaced it. The man narrowed his eyes. 

"Who are you, exactly?" he asked accusingly. The restaurant host looked uncomfortable behind them, pretending to not be paying attention to their conversation. However, her eyes kept glancing towards them. Arthur didn't blame her; in her place, he wouldn't want an altercation to take place. 

He thought about how to respond to the man, as he looked at him and took him in. He looked in his late twenties, like Arthur himself, but quite different in stature. He indeed wasn't Lancelot, either. His hair, though dark and cut short in a similar way to Lance's, promised more curls. It was almost comical, the way the man obviously went out of his way to flatten the fluff of hair onto his scalp as much as possible, completely unaware of the fact that it was springing back as easily as a blooming flower in the morning sunlight. His eyes were a deep blue-grey, like the reflection on the surface of the ocean on a gloomy day. They bore into Arthur as unhappily as the churning waters in such oceans. His cheekbones were astonishingly sharp, like a hidden knife ready to spring on an attacker at any moment. Arthur felt that he would be able to cut his finger from a single touch. And his lips... Arthur stared at those lips, which were red and of an obscene fullness. In that moment, Arthur knew that he would let the man do anything to him with those lips. 

Arthur suddenly became hyper aware of his own appearance, such as the mess of blonde that he was never able to stop from hanging limply over his face, and the distinctive outline of his jutting jaw. He cleared his throat before responding, knowing it would probably be hoarse. "Um, I'm Arthur, Arthur Pendragon. Hello," he said, awkwardly offering his hand out for the man, who pointedly didn't take it. Arthur folded his hands behind his back. "Sorry about that. I, ah, mistook you for someone else. I wasn't trying to abduct you or anything." He winced at his own lame joke immediately, and the man's look softened. 

"It's alright, don't worry about it," he responded gently. When Arthur, who continued to stand in a stupor, didn't say anything," the man nodded, bid him a good evening, and left. 

Arthur eventually found Gwen and Lance's table, now fifteen minutes late instead of ten. Everyone was already present, including Morgana, who had somehow managed to arrived before Arthur, despite working in the same office. He knew to stop questioning her methods long ago - he was confident that she possessed magic, or something. Gwaine and Percival looked at him with amusement, shortly bursting into laughter over the beer they were nursing. Lance looked slightly uncomfortable, along with Leon and Elyan. Morgana shot him a murderous look to be expected, and Gwen just looked happy to see him. He sat down at the end of the table, next to Elyan, looking down in embarrassment and murmuring, "Sorry, I got caught up looking for the place. It was a little obscure." He wasn't particularly inclined to share the _other_ , extremely embarrassing event that kept him from the dinner table. 

It was in that moment that he realised that the man had not even given him his name. Overcome by an uncharacteristic, mopey disappointment, he decided to call over a waiter for a drink stronger than beer or wine. 

As the waiter approached, Arthur's jaw dropped: the man. He was a server - _their_ server. If he experienced any surprise from seeing Arthur, once again in a stupor from seeing the man, he didn't show it. 

"Hello, ladies and gentlemen," be began excitedly. "Welcome to the Welsh Winery, a restaurant known exclusively for its wines from not only from Wales, but also from all over the United Kingdom. My name is Merlin, and I will be your server for tonight." Looking at Gwen and Lance, sitting at the head of the table, he said, "I have been informed that this is an engagement celebration for Lancelot du Lac and Guinevere Coulby. Congratulations." Then, facing the rest of the attendees, his gaze lingering just a second longer on Arthur, he said, "I see that many of you already have refreshments. However, I am here for anyone ready to order, whether it be drinks or food. Is anyone ready to order?" 

Arthur, deciding to play it slightly cockily with _Merlin_ for practically ignoring me, raised his hand in a carefree manner. "Me. I'm trying to decide between the 1989 Bordeaux and 2001 Claret. Which would you recommend?" 

Merlin returned the smile, answering, "I would recommend the 1990 Bordeaux instead for a richer, less sweet flavour, and the 2001 Claret if you are looking for something lighter." 

Arthur felt his face flush, embarrassed once again in his interaction with Merlin. It was clear that as a waiter at a winery, he truly did understand the differences of major wines, and even in the nuances between their specific years. 

"1990 Bordeaux it is, then," Arthur said matter-of-factly, aware of the puzzled gazes all of his friends sent him. 

After Merlin took the rest of the company's orders and strutting away, _strutting_ , Gwen turned to face Arthur expectantly. "Whenever you stop feeling the need for being a dick to every single nice person you encounter, feel free to do so," she told him in amusement. 

"I kind of... ran into him earlier. As I was walking into the restaurant, I mean. I'm kind of pissed that he's ignoring me, is all." 

"Well, Arthur," Morgana said, "Becoming a snob won't give you the better impression that you obviously want. In fact, quite the opposite. And you obviously wouldn't succeed in snob in the first place, as you are not even able to carry your higher status with an air of respect." 

Arthur shot an immature, sour expression her way, knowing that she held herself with poise and professionalism, that he himself would never manage. However, he conceded to her point. Morgana was the epitome of appropriate social behaviour, while Arthur was just running behind them all, trying not to fall under the pressure under his new responsibilities and the pressure he could suddenly feel being thrusted on his shoulders. 

Throughout the whole evening, Merlin strutted about their table, serving their table with carefree laughter, engaging in conversation with the party. He made Gwaine guffaw with laughter and Gwen smile fondly, causing Arthur to flush in awkward jealously. Any attempts to talk to Merlin were greeted with the waiter's knowing smiles and sarcastic responses. It was as if they were playing each other throughout the evening, Arthur pulling his pigtails with annoying the authority of a picky customer and Merlin pushing his buttons rights back by complying with visible irritation. 

"Merlin," Arthur called out through a sigh of contentment, leaning back lazily and stretching. He was incredibly full, and couldn't particularly imagine stuffing desert into his stomach at this time. It was almost ten already, and his company had dispersed throughout the restaurant. Morgana whispered something into Leon's ear at the other side of the table, probably something too filthy for the early evening and for their relative sobriety, judging by the spreading deep red flush across Leon's cheeks. Arthur never saw Morgana and Leon together outside of their reunions, and neither his half-sister nor mate ever spilled. She probably had her mysterious reasons for not advertising their relationship, having threatened to cut off Leon's balls or something if he wouldn't do the same. Gwaine and Percival and had wandered off to drink at the pub. Arthur could see them now, attempting to play a traditional Welsh drinking game that the bartender was explaining to them. Lance and Gwen were dancing together in front of the stage, on which a jazz pianist were performing. They were one of several couples, spinning around in each others' arms and enjoying themselves as happily as two partners drunk on their first realisation of love. 

With the exception of Elyan, Gwen's brother, whose long-term girlfriend lived on the other side of the United Kingdom, Arthur was the only one in their company that was single. He had dated Gwen in their first years of uni, when all of them had met and bonded in the strangest ways. Arthur attended on a soccer scholarship, but he knew it was only a temporary investment of his time, as his major was already business, and he was paving his way through Camelot Enterprises with his father's help. Gwen was the first gal that talked to him after he won his practice match, sitting at the stands with a satisfied-looking Morgana. He met Lance on the team, while Gwaine was his persistently smashed roommate, whom he somehow ended up taking care of throughout the beginning of the year. Gwaine and Morgana somehow pushed Leon, Percy, and Elyan into his life, and suddenly, he stopped fearing the loneliness that he had expected to come with the weight of responsibilities that came with preparing to take over a business. He has tried to quench that loneliness when he had first asked Gwen out, to a fancy dinner hosted by Camelot Enterprises. She had happily agreed, and he was relieved - until their first night together. They had taken things slowly, waiting until the third date for Arthur to finally take her back to his flat, light candles and set water running for a bubble bath. However, taking one look at her, standing with confidence and poise in her golden-chocolate skin, seeing her high round breasts and tuft of curly hair between her legs, he only felt fear. Fear and embarrassment, disbelief at the fact that he had had _no_ idea that being with a woman wasn't for him. Worse, he immediately felt overwhelming loneliness, wondering if, being the way he was, he would ever allow himself to find anyone with whom to be happy. Gwen, being the understanding and compassionate person that she was, hadn't even run away screaming. She had dressed, pulled him into his arms, and told them that nothing, not even Arthur's big gay cliché of an epiphany, could ruin their friendship. The discomfort and worry had ebbed. 

However, even as life went on, and Arthur's gracious new friends pulled him along and into everything they did despite the formations of their own personal relationships, he didn't move on from the irrational turmoil that welled up inside him. It was a mix of fear of relationships and the need for people to love in his life, a paradoxical combination that left him groaning in frustration whenever he tried to analyse is. Most of the time, it got in the way of school, then work, and then happiness. So he didn't analyse it, even - _especially_ not after waking up alone in the aftermath of meaningless time spent at a bar, with a hangover and the lingering evidence of another man. Arthur would look at the creases made on the other side of the bed, at the infrequent note left behind, and carefully keep his mind blank. Meaningless sex didn't need to be overcomplicated with Arthur's ridiculous dilemmas. 

Occasionally, though, Arthur would catch himself in a swirl of thoughts, watching his friends experiencing happiness that he couldn't even see lingering in the distance for himself. Like right now. 

"Sir," came Merlin's voice for what probably was the hundredth time. The way Arthur could zone out was quite pathetic, really. "Will you be ordering right now, or should I return in a few decades?" 

Arthur smiled sadly, looking up at Merlin's hopeful expression. That punk, trying to get a rise out of Arthur. "You know, I could have you fired immediately for that," he informed him. 

"I know, but you won't, really" Merlin responded cheekily, sitting down in the chair next to Arthur. "Actually, I think I can just as easily have you kicked out of the restaurant for being a particularly annoying customer." 

"What can I say?" Arthur said innocently, shrugging. "You're a particularly annoying waiter." 

Merlin laughed with a smile on his face that made the corners of his mouth crinkle. Arthur looked on, enamoured. He knew immediately that he wanted to be the one to always be the cause of such an open smile and genuine laugh from Merlin. "You did call me over, Arthur," Merlin pointed out, looking at Arthur seriously but not unkindly. "Did you need anything?" 

Deciding to be honest, Arthur answered, "Not really. I just wanted to talk to you, I guess." 

The smile that adorned Merlin's face this time was gentler, and more timid as well. He placed his hand on Arthur's shoulder and squeezed slightly before letting go. "My shift ends in an hour. Will you still be here then?" 

Arthur swallowed, suddenly faced with familiar nervousness and anxiety. However, he forced a smile and a nod to will the suddenly concerned expression from Merlin's face. 

Merlin beamed, standing up. "Great! That means you'll be sticking around for line dancing!" With that, he trotted away to serve a table on the other side of the restaurant, just out of Arthur's side. 

Nothing safe came with the promise of line dancing, but Arthur awaited it with anticipation anyways. He wasn't sure if Welsh culture in the first place - Irish traditional dancing was where a style of line dancing originated. The hour left to wait passed by relatively uneventfully - Gwen, Lance, Gwaine, and Percy returned to the table to tell about their own encounters on the dance floor and at the bar, respectfully. 

When eleven o'clock finally rolled around, long-hidden musicians made their way onto the stage. They included a harpist, two fiddlers, and a vocalist: a strange assortment of musicians for line dancing, but Arthur supposed that it probably varied from Scottish and Irish, holding it's own culture. Elyan nudged Gwaine and Percy, who had been sitting hunched over the table and more than a little tipsy. Gwen pulled Lance back on the dance floor, also dragging Morgana behind her, whom Leon followed. Arthur stood up slowly, following them like a forgotten puppy. He looked around, however, searching for the bouncing flop of dark hair and the skinny body, hidden by a long-sleeved white shirt. 

Finally, Merlin bounded over to him, looking far too excited for eleven at night. He had lost his white apron, now remaining in his simple white shirt and black slacks. He grabbed Arthur by the upper arms and pulled him along. Arthur couldn't help but comply. Gwen, who had turned around, probably to return to the table and suffer the ordeal of moving Arthur from the spot where he remained all night, caught his eye, flicking up a questioning eyebrow and sending him a smile and thumbs up. He smiled back nervously, nodding, grateful for her ever-present support. 

"We have Welsh dancing every night, you see," Merlin was saying. "The music is quite different from Scottish or Irish tunes most people envision: more lyrical. The Welsh Winery is never completely full, and enough people pile out by eleven for there to be room for the rest of the house on the dance floor. Have you ever line danced before?" 

"Only when I had me alcohol in me than I do now," Arthur offered half-heartedly. 

"Come on, it'll be an entertaining new experience!" 

And entertaining it was. Even though Arthur and Merlin had begun the dance facing one another, moving back and forth to the rhythm of the music, Arthur following Merlin's lead and attempting to pick up the moves quickly, they soon separated, moving in opposite directions across the floor to dance with other partners, as per the rules of the dance. Arthur found himself dancing with Gwen, Morgana, Gwaine, and about ten individuals who still remained in the winery. Gwen, bless her soul, didn't talk about that thing with Merlin, just enjoying the dance. Morgana shot Arthur glares whenever he tried to get her to relax her rigid posture. He was quite worried for her ramrod-straight back, accompanied by her six inch heels that scraped the ground with every move. Whenever he mentioned it, she told him that he should worry about himself, since he looked like "a desperate puppy waiting outside in the rain". With Gwaine, Arthur engaged in practically a fighting game 

Each dance always ended with Merlin: with a touch of their palms, with Arthur's hand on the other's waist and Merlin's hand on Arthur's shoulder, spinning and turning together. It continued for some time; with each separation, Arthur felt more and more eager to return to Merlin, to see his blue-grey eyes soften as Arthur approached him, and to feel his heart beat just slightly faster in his chest. 

At the end of the night, however, Arthur didn't know what to expect. He and Merlin had refrained from the topic of what would happen at the end of their hour as they met for fleeting moments throughout the night. A kiss goodbye? A formal farewell? 

As they had all arrived independently of one another, the people of his company slowly started dispersing, eventually leaving only Lance and Gwen alongside Arthur, as they were the hosts of the evening. However, seeing everyone out and saying goodbye, they were also more than ready to go home. 

Gwen held Arthur's gaze, running her hands up and down his shoulders, as if sending his perpetual nervousness. "Thanks for coming tonight. I know you feel slightly comfortable by being single amongst three different couples - and hey, don't give me that look! You know it's true. Arthur, it's fine to admit to being a little touch- and emotion-starved. I always worry, but I see you've found a friend, at least, today." She glanced at Merlin, who was helping the rest of the staff close for the night, despite already being relieved from his shift. "I don't know what will happen tonight, Arthur; believe me, I really don't want to, either. Still, be careful, okay? Be mindful of that big, patched up heart of yours, okay?" 

Arthur realised that he was going to need a lot of alcohol in his system to cancel out the fluffy teddy bears persistently pushed into his system by that Guinevere. He wasn't some damsel in distress! However, he recognised her concern, glad for her mindful care. He hugged her and kissed her cheek, giving Lance a slap on the back, before seeing them out. Turning from the doorway, where he watched them exist, he was met by Merlin's eyes, which were boring into him intently yet without pressure. 

"I..." Merlin began, seeming unsure, "I live right by here. A few blocks down, where the restaurants transforms into blocks of flats." 

"Are you asking me to walk you home, Merlin?" Arthur asked, jostling him with his shoulder as they wrestled on their respective coats and made their way through the double doors of the restaurant. 

"Indeed I am," Merlin responded, making Arthur's chuckles turn to seriousness fade into the night. They made their way through the shimmering streets, set alight by streetlights and the bustling activity continuing indoors all around them. They walked in silence, which hovered on the border that separated forced comfort and awkwardness. Whenever Merlin thought Arthur wasn't paying attention, he snatched looks at him from under his thick eyelashes. When Merlin averted his eyes, Arthur glanced longingly at Merlin from the corner of his eyes. 

When they finally arrived Merlin's flat block, they stood in the chilling air, looking at anything but each other. Even though only a few moments had passed, it seemed like the whole universe had lived its life span twice over. Merlin shuffled his feet, at the same time that Arthur tried to inconspicuously cough. They both looked up sharply, their gaze finally catching. Behind Merlin's eyes lied something unfathomable, emotions that Arthur did not understand, could not decipher, had not experienced in a relationship with another person before. Amidst their turmoil that mirrored his own, however, Arthur could discern a hope for familiarity, as if Merlin was reaching with his whole soul to understand him. Arthur felt something within him reach right back; his fingertips twitched, but he forced his arms to stay at his side. He scolded himself, reprimanded himself over and over for building a wall between them and not giving in to the something that they both wanted. 

"Well," he heard himself saying, "I must wish you a goodnight, I see." 

Merlin looked slightly hurt; Arthur felt as if someone had just painfully stepped all over his heart. "You don't _have_ to wish me anything," he murmured, "but thanks. Good night to you, too." He stood for a moment longer with a look of expectation written all over his expression. 

Arthur finally broke free of his mental barriers, forcing a step forward, towards Merlin, but he had already turned around. He walked away from Arthur, disappearing into the building without looking back. Arthur's hand fell back to his side. 

Arthur took a cab home, managing to clear his mind of Merlin, his piercing cheekbones, the teasing glint in his blue-grey eyes. He fell into bed in his spacious, lonely flat, almost being too lazy to remove his trousers and dress shirt. Curled up into his side, he let his restless mind wander, keeping him from falling asleep. Merlin was a stranger, anyways; so what if there was chemistry? He would probably never see him again, would forget the deep pink flush that would creep into Merlin's cheeks whenever he took Arthur's jostling comments to heart. He knew where he lived, yeah, but it was too creepy to even consider camping out outside of his flat block and waiting for him to go to work in the evening or something. Yeah. Arthur really wasn't - or shouldn't be - a stalker. 

He wondered what it would have been like: moving forward just in time for Merlin to see him, to rush forward and embrace him, whether with a hug or a passionate kiss, pull him into his flat and spend an eventful night with him. Arthur tried to tell himself that it would just have been a meaningless fuck, just like all those other times, except he would leave this time instead of the other guy. It was just sex that he missed out on, a one-night stand as unmemorable as the others. 

With a dreadful feeling of bitterness gathering at the bottom of his stomach, he realised that he wouldn't have left the morning after, wouldn't have left Merlin to wake up sleepily, his hair probably messed up and flattened against the side of his face, his eyes blinking to clear the haze. He would have stayed. 

It was when Arthur's mind and aching heart finally relinquished him into the grasps of dreams that he realised that he didn't even catch Merlin's last name. 

~ 

The next day, Arthur pulled himself out of bed just in time for work, barely able to open his eyes without his standard two cups of coffee. When he arrived at work, a few secretaries through him concerned looks. If they were able to notice his distress mixed with general shittiness, Morgana would smell it from ten miles away. He tried to avoid her throughout the day. However, as she was the Vice President of Camelot Enterprises, a job that called for close collaboration with Arthur, his attempts to avoid her for as long as possible were to no avail. In about two hours, she somehow appeared two inches behind his office chair, tapping her toe menacingly. It almost gave him a heart attack, really, and he swivelled around abruptly with a hand gripping his chest. Morgana's thin, arched eyebrows and red pursed lips did nothing to calm him. Quite the opposite. If looks could kill, he would bleeding out tea kettles all over the floor right now. Instead, god bless the absence of telepathic abilities, he only pressed back against his desk like a frightened animal ready to flee. 

"Don't think I don't know what's going on here, Pendragon," she began strictly, and he gulped. He wasn't going to get off the hook with his half-sister _ever_ , period. "I know I'm not exactly like Gwen, forming a mini support group for your personal relationship problems and giving you hugs whenever your feelings are hurt. However, I _do_ sort of need to pay attention to your life, considering I practically run Camelot Enterprises for you; without me you would crash and burn, and _don't_ even try to protest here. Well, it's not like I didn't see you yesterday, pining over _Merlin_ , as you say it, completely smitten with the way he is almost as ridiculously annoying and lame as you are. And today, you're like acting like a broken-hearted damsel in distress, despite your claim to be anything but. Boohoo, your precious feeling were hurt; Merlin slipped from your feelings faster than a cloth of silk. But I don't see you doing anything about it except sulking." She looked at him meaningfully. " _Did_ you do anything about it?" 

With her monologue completed, Arthur was at a loss for words. He worried his lower lip with his teeth, not wanting to admit that he, in fact, had screwed something that could potentially be beautiful by his utter lack of courage and taking action. Morgana realised this and sighed, slinking into a chair across from him. 

"Arthur, in all my years of having the honour of being your half-sister, not once did I see you fight for a person that you wanted in your life. For a relationship that you wanted, or needed. What's stopping you from pursuing something that will obviously make you happy?" 

Many things, Arthur wanted to say. I don't know how to be in a relationship. I don't know what emotional barriers it encompasses, and what I can bring forth to make Merlin, or anyone else, happy. I don't know whether I can ever fully forgive myself for not being able to love a woman, for being gay. I feel helpless in the fact that I cannot choose the person that I fall in love with in the same way that I cannot choose my sexuality. I am afraid of being wrong, of my hope for finding someone that will at least understand me and my petty fears being crushed utterly and completely. Arthur wanted to say this, but couldn't. Wasn't ready, wasn't sure, and everything else that added to the list of "things Arthur needs to get the fuck over any day now". Ultimately, he understood that feeling uncertainty and a lack of confidence in specific things was an acceptable, human thing. However, he felt guilty in the face of the many people who faced much more serious difficulties in their own lives. Instead of voicing his thoughts, he muttered, "He didn't actually invite me inside." 

Morgana groaned, immediately grabbing the object closest to her - thankfully only a book - and whacking Arthur on the shoulder with it. "You utter idiot. Poor Merlin, actually. What a thick-headed, dim-witted moron he got caught up in." With that, she stood up again, striding out of the office as if his personal issues were settled. Arthur wasn't sure if they were, not completely, but he now knew to do something about them. 

Quite impatiently, Arthur worked until six, his mind drifting away from Camelot Enterprises and to Merlin. He wondered what he was doing: if he was serving tables, or working at another part-time job; if he was humming the same tune that Arthur had overheard him hum while passing by their table the night before. Finally, as soon as the clock struck six, he rushed to the metropolitan station, ready to return to the Welsh Winery. He only hoped Merlin worked there today. 

When he arrived, he jogged in the direction he remembered the Welsh Winery to be. Finally, after much looking around akin to yesterday, he saw it across the street, a block down. It was six thirty, and it was possible that Merlin hadn't yet arrived for his shift. Hell, it was possible that he did not work at all on Monday nights. 

Arthur stood at the entrance of the winery, watching couples and companies exit and enter in a continuous flow of people. He suddenly felt bereft, cut off from the world, uncertain of what he was doing here. Would he even be wanted? 

Suddenly, two arms slipped around his waist from behind, sliding underneath his own, as they hung at his sides. They clasped together, and he could see the now familiar thin wrists belonging to the individual embracing him. He turned around, his eyes immediately drawn to the flush of red on Merlin's cheekbones, his full lips, and his crinkling eyes. Excitement came off of him in waves. Arthur put his own hands on Merlin's shoulders, wondering what to say. Surprisingly, Merlin was the first to speak. 

"My name is Merlin Emrys, and I'm actually from the village of Erebor," he began in a rush. "I moved here with my mother, so that she would be able to have more effective cancer treatment, which we weren't able to afford back home. We couldn't really afford it here either, which is why I work shifts at the Welsh Winery. I also work as the assistant librarian from the morning to the afternoon on Saturdays and Sundays at the public library one mile away, close enough to walk. My mum's getting better, but she needs me to help out with the finances for another few years. 

"I majored in Gaelic and work as a linguist and translator from home for most of the day in an international linguistics company. Gaelic's not that popular, you see, which is why it doesn't fully pay the bills. I love cracking puzzled and composing poetry in made up languages. The last serious relationship I had was with a girl name Freya back in grade school. No one's ever made me enjoy a shift at work before you." 

Here, Merlin's voice softened, and his speech lost its speed and vigour. He looked down nervously. "I promise that I usually don't just go on about myself. I would say I'm quite busy, but between the different jobs that I still have to handle, I think I can find time to listen to anything you would like to share, too." 

Arthur couldn't bare it any longer; he finally leaned in, capturing Merlin's lips in his. He tried to keep it chaste for the sake of the numerous people around them, but it was hard, when Merlin pressed back so eagerly with his hands, body, and heart. Arthur bit his bottom lip gently before pulling back to lean his forehead against Merlin's. They both panted slightly. 

"My name is Arthur Pendragon," he finally whispered in return, "and I believe I will be enjoying another evening of distracting the already incompetent waiter named Merlin at the winery tonight." 

Merlin tried to suppress a giggle, but it didn't work. Arthur kissed it from his mouth, feeling his own happiness grow and intertwine with Merlin's. 

When they separated, Merlin leaned over to collect a menu, handing it to Arthur. "Let me show you to your seat, then, _sir_." With that, he walked into the building, practically sashaying his hips. He even had the nerve to turn over his shoulder and wink at Arthur promiscuously before leading the way to a table. Arthur laughed, unable to do more, and followed.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [Tawni](http://archiveofourown.org/users/burninglikeabridge) for beta-ing my work once again, and for her kind words of appreciation!
> 
> This is written for the Week 1, Day 4 prompt for [Team Arthur](http://merlinfestarthur.tumblr.com) of the [BBC Merlin Fest](http://bbcmerlinfest.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. _Favorite pairing: it can be canon or not, cracky even, but no crossovers._


End file.
